Death in the Time of Ice (21 page)

So the Ancient Ones had left the old land and had journeyed many, many seasons, summer and winter, warm time and cold time, until they came to a land they liked. They had been led by the Guiding Bear of Mother Sky.

In this new land there was more space, and enough game for everyone. The Tall Ones had followed later, but there were never as many living in this land as there had been in the old one and there was no fighting here.

Bahg Swiftfeet has told us of seeing Great Ice on their latest travels. That Great Ice will drive game away. It is what will make us move our village.

Bahg once again shared the vision of that vast, gleaming expanse and the other traders joined in with their versions.

After the Saga ended, Hama began the ceremonies, surprising them all by giving the name Stitcher to the New One. Then by renaming Teek to Bearclaw. They marveled at the carvings Hama said Stitcher had given to her.

Then, just as Hama was bestowing his Passage name on Doon, Enga Dancing Flower and the boy Jeek had burst into the meeting with the disastrous news of the fake beaver trail.

Bahg replayed the scene in his mind for the tenth time. He had attended with the baby and witnessed all of it.

Hama had screeched in a high, thin wail. She had reached for the face of Doon with her fingernails and managed to give him a couple of deep scratches before the two males nearest her caught her arms and held her until her rage subsided.

Cabat the Thick, who had raised Doon with his own birth son, Kung, after both Doon’s birth parents died in his infancy, had screwed up his pudgy face and started blubbering.

Hama had thrown thoughts of disgust at him.

Old Panan One Eye seemed to be the calmest. He took it upon himself to interrogate Doon.
Is there truth in what Enga Dancing Flower and Jeek tell us?
he thought-spoke.

Doon stood resolutely mute. Nothing came from his mind.

Will the Hamapa all sit now? And tell me
, Panan continued,
how a beaver can fit through such a small space. This is not right, Doon. Did you make these tracks? Did you try to tell us an untruth?

Still nothing from Doon. His face, usually slack-looking, took on a stony aspect and he gritted his teeth. Even he, with his slow wits, must have known what was about to happen to him.

Bahg, knowing fully what was going on, had shifted the weight of his baby in his arms and stared at Doon. A moment ago Doon had been named Doon Beaver Tracker. Now he was about to be disgraced. The baby started to whimper. Bahg stuck a finger into his tiny mouth for him to suck and held him close.

Panan gave Doon a look of gentle sorrow.
Would you like to go with me to the place where the tracks travel between the trees, Doon?

Still no reaction from Doon.

And why did you make the tracks, Doon? There was no beaver. Is that true?
The volume of his thought-speech rose, strands of scarlet radiating with his thought-words. Panan clenched his fists.
Was it you? Did you do this heinous thing, this hateful thing? Did you harm your sister and brother Hamapa?
Panan stepped close and put his face in Doon’s, his red-hot anger rising, fury distorting his usually gentle, wrinkled face.

Doon took a huge, shuddering breath and looked around at the wide-eyed, disbelieving faces, all turned up toward him. Then he broke.

Bahg was nearest and caught Doon one-handed as he crumpled to the ground. Doon’s body shook with his great sobs. He didn’t bother to cover his face with his hands, just let his tears flow onto the paving stones.

Something snapped inside Bahg. He handed his baby to the nearest Hamapa and gripped Doon by the neck. Bahg’s sky-blue eyes blazed and bored into Doon.
Did you do this? Are you responsible for what happened to my Fee Long Thrower and my baby?

Doon’s silence was his answer. He shook Doon by the neck. Donik Tree Trunk and Tog Flint Shaper ran up and, after a struggle, peeled Bahg’s fingers from Doon’s throat.

This is not the way to do this
, thought-spoke Tog.
Doon will be dealt with.

Bahg then collapsed and sobbed next to Doon.

Now, the next day, the whole tribe walked around subdued, their heads down, their mood grim and desolate. Doon had been turned out of the tribe that night with his clothing and one knife. He would have to find another tribe to take him in if he were to survive. Bahg knew he would not find one. The nearest tribe was nearly dead of starvation and the next nearest had disappeared.

Two summers ago, when Bahg had joined the Hamapa to mate with Fee, he had traveled from his native tribe, many moons to the south. Doon did not have the mental capacity to survive long enough on his own to make it to that tribe, or any other.

Doon would die alone.

Chapter 17

Michael Richards, now at the University of Bradford in England, and his colleagues recently examined isotopes of carbon (13C) and nitrogen (15N) in 29,000-year-old Neandertal bones from Vindija cave in Croatia.… The analyses show that the Vindija Neandertals had 15N levels comparable to those seen in northern carnivores such as foxes and wolves, indicating that they obtained almost all their dietary protein from animal foods.

—
Scientific American, Special Edition: New Look at Human Evolution
, August, 2003, p. 69

The mood of the tribe was sour. Enga Dancing Flower could almost taste it hanging over the village. Banishing Doon last night was something they had all hated to do. But it was clear that someone who harmed others could not be allowed to stay in the tribe.

Enga sat just outside her door and watched her tribal brothers and sisters go about their day. Sister Sun warmed her face, but she didn’t feel much warmth from the tribe, ever since Hama had made those wild and false accusations against her. Enga had hoped the tribe would accept her again after she and Jeek solved the mystery of the attack on Fee Long Thrower and the baby. But, if anything, they were angrier at her.

Did they think it was her fault Doon was expelled? She heard the thoughts flying around. Outsider, they said. Not really a Hamapa, they whispered. Enga wanted to scream. She was a true Hamapa, no matter what they thought.

Hama had not appeared since new sun. Earlier, Cabat the Thick had brought her some of the thin gruel that was their breakfast these days. Now he squatted at the fire pit, deep in conversation with Akkal, the Fire Tender, his birth son. Their faces looked serious and they kept their thoughts between them. Ung Strong Arm and Lakala Rippling Water, the Singer, sat near them, lingering near the warmth of the fire. Ung was so much better she could hobble about unassisted now. Lakala was straightening and braiding the hair of some of the younger females. Vala Golden Hair was helping with this, too. Tog Flint Shaper and Donik Tree Trunk and some young males had gone to check the fish weir, but there was not much hope for a catch.

Sannum Straight Hair caught her eye and lifted a hand to Enga in greeting. Sannum would always remain friendly to her, she knew. He knelt outside the male wipiti, chipping a new spear tip, the clinks of his stone tool ringing over the bustle of movement around him. Roh Lion Hunter and Ongu Small One, sitting together tearing leather into strips with their teeth, thought-whispered, putting their heads close together between rips. But soon Roh summoned her daughter, Gunda, and they left with their spears. Enga hoped they would bring something back to eat. She would have gone with them if they had invited her, but was glad they did not. She was so tired. The conflict in the tribe sapped her strength. Maybe Gunda was going to have target practice with her mother because Roh did not want Enga teaching her, or even near her.

Panan One Eye, the Storyteller, sat idle, having earned his rest by virtue of his fifty summers. A fly, late in the season, buzzed above his bald pate. As Enga followed its movements, Panan stood up and broadcast a message to the whole tribe.

We will start to think about the murder of our Aja Hama together now. We must question what happened there. The small footprints might not be real. If Doon could manufacture beaver prints, someone could manufacture those. At the next council we will meet and discuss everything we have thought of separately.

Enga was relieved that someone else was going to question the death of Aja Hama. If the whole tribe put their minds together, maybe they would discover the truth. But, before that happened, maybe everyone would return to suspecting each other. And her. She wondered if anyone would think she had faked the prints. Personally, she wondered if Nanno Green Eyes, as she was then, had had anything to do with them.

Then she noticed most of them were looking at her, some directly, some sneaking glances at her. They did! They suspected her. Enga could not breathe. She clenched her eyes closed and tightened her fists.

Enga Dancing Flower, my sister.
Enga opened her mind to Ung.
What troubles you?

Can you not feel the suspicions directed at me? The whole tribe thinks I killed Aja Hama.
A tear leaked out of Enga’s eye.

But you must not let them think that. You must find out who killed her.

Yes, you speak the truth, sister. I must.
She drew a noisy, shaky breath.

She would find the killer herself.

She sent a private, tunneled message to Cabat and asked him to meet her behind the wipitis, near the stream. It was close to the village, but they wouldn’t be seen there. He was one who could have killed her.

Why did you summon me here, Enga Dancing Flower?
He seemed irritated that she had done so. It took some effort for him to descend the bank of the stream.

And now what would she say? Enga thought quickly. The stream murmured peacefully over its stones behind her.
I want to find out more. I am concerned about the last moments of Aja Hama.

Cabat hung his head.
Yes, I am sorry we quarreled just before she died. But I could not know she would be killed. And that it would happen so soon after our argument.

But what did you argue about?

Cabat regarded her for a moment. A black bird cried out above them.
It was a private matter.

Was she returning to Panan One Eye as a mate? Did she no longer want you for her mate?

That is not true!
Cabat stepped very close to Enga and stuck his round face in front of hers. She stumbled back a step, repelled and frightened by his anger.
You think I killed her. And I think you did.

She wanted badly to accuse him more strongly. But he was an Elder. She watched Cabat struggle up the bank, then slowly followed him back to the Paved Place, no wiser than before. Who should she question next? Could she question Hama?

Zhoo of Still Waters, the Healer, emerged from her wipiti and crossed to check on Fee Long Thrower, who still lay unconscious. Enga knew Bahg Swiftfeet was there, too, unable to leave Fee alone, and trying to comfort his hungry son.

Enga started to enter her wipiti to try and rest, but halted when she heard a strange sound. As she listened more closely, she remembered hearing it many summers ago. She closed her eyes. It had been dark, yes, and the air had been hot. Enga, then a mere girl, had sought coolness and had scooted out of the nightly gathering to lay her cheek on a cool paving stone at the edge of the communal area. She had seen two figures, outlined against the night sky, and one had wept with an eerie, low-pitched tone. That was the sound she heard now.

She got to her feet to investigate, but had only gone two steps when Bahg burst from his doorway, throwing the flap back so hard it bounced and swung back at him. He laughed aloud, placed it back properly, and ran to the center of the gathering place.

Zhoo poked her head out of Bahg and Fee’s wipiti, then emerged, too, her serene face beaming like Sister Sun.

Bahg jumped up and down, waving for everyone to come near, and sending out a clarion thought-call to all of them, a message the color of bright, leaping fire. Enga ran, her fatigue forgotten. The males, who were just returning from the fishing trap empty-handed, ran, too. Roh and Gunda rushed back and joined the gathering, breathless.

It is Fee!
thought-spoke Bahg.
She opened her eyes.
He nodded to Zhoo, who stayed near the dwelling.

Yes,
confirmed Zhoo.
Fee Long Thrower is well. She is nursing the baby. She knows who Bahg Swiftfeet is and who I am. I think she will recover fully.

But where is Hama?
wondered Enga. She didn’t want to get her, remembering the last time she tried to summon a Hama. Nevertheless, she knew someone must see why Hama had not shown up.

Roh, the birth daughter of Hama, took it upon herself to check.

* * *

Jeek moved as quietly as he could, hoping to sneak up on the beaver. He had worked hard during dark time. Brother Moon had kept him company throughout his labors, giving him faint silvery light from his slight, lopsided form, while Jeek dug a deep ditch at the edge of the pond. The first two he made filled with water soon after he started digging. That prompted him to search out a dry hillock for the third hole. His hands ached from scraping at the dirt for most of dark time.

He looked up now and saw that soon Sister Sun would greet Mother Sky and shed light through the thick trees onto this damp earth. He said goodbye to Brother Moon. He would be even smaller next time he appeared.

Now Jeek must locate the beaver and lure it to the trap he had covered with long pine branches. The vision of the celebration that would be held in his honor hung in his mind, spurring him on. There would be a true feast, on the meat of the beaver. The Hamapa would have to eat it. They were all so hungry, they would have to. Wouldn’t they? He was hungry enough to eat almost anything. Its pelt would yield many new garments and much soft bedding.